


Make-Believe

by JolinarJackson



Category: Deadpool (Movieverse), Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mild Language, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:29:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23203246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JolinarJackson/pseuds/JolinarJackson
Summary: Tony stared at him for a long moment, then closed his eyes with a resigned sigh. “Dear God, it’s true,” he muttered.“What?” Peter asked.“You’redatinghim.”Peter wanted to huff a laugh anddeny, deny, denybecause it wasn’t true. But his touch and romance-starved self reared its ugly head, getting to his voice chords first. “And if I was?”It was supposed to be a joke. And Tony took it completely seriously. “Then you should bring him to my New Year’s Eve party so I can give him the shovel talk.”Peter could have told him then but somehow, he had the feeling that Wade – whonevergot invited to Avengers shindigs andalwayswanted to be – would like this. Maybe they could just pretend for one night. To give Wade the chance to join and to give Peter the chance to find all the reasons why things between them wouldn’t work out.Peter should have known that all he’d do was hurt himself.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Comments: 36
Kudos: 521





	Make-Believe

**Author's Note:**

> _Author's Note:_ This is my first Spideypool story actually, and was written based on a prompt from Discord (by Ice Katana). You can fidn the prompt at the end. :)  
>  _Beta:_ Done by silvyri on super short notice. :) Thank you!
> 
> This story was [translated to French by sercaidusza](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26951746). :D

Peter should have known that all he’d do was hurt himself. 

He really shouldn’t be as surprised as he was right now. He shifted a bit, pulling his shoulders up against the cold wind, and turned his head to look towards East River. This high up, on the balcony of Avengers Tower, New York appeared silent and peaceful. Windows, cars and street lamps illuminated the streets below, aided by the Christmas decorations that were still adorning almost every possible free space. New York was heading for a new year, with just a few hours to go, and it looked beautiful. 

The festive atmosphere didn’t do much to cheer Peter up.

A burst of laughter spilled out onto the balcony from inside; the party Peter was missing in full swing. He wanted to go home but he knew that Tony would never accept him leaving before the fireworks. Another year gone by, the third since May had died, the second since Peter and MJ had not worked out – _again_ – the first since he’d realized that he was in love with someone who would probably never consider him to be more than a potential one night stand. 

_‘Really,’_ Peter thought, ‘you only have to blame yourself for feeling miserable on New Year’s Eve.’ 

What was supposed to be a joke had morphed into something painful and complicated and all Peter wanted was to go home and lick his wounds in peace for a couple of days. 

He’d be fine after. Definitely. 

Maybe.

***

**3 days ago**

“I’ve been hearing a scary rumor,” Tony said into the silence of his workshop where Peter was assisting him in fixing one of the Iron Man suits. The repulsor had fritzed during the last training session and Tony was using the opportunity to show Peter the inner workings of one of Iron Man’s most effective weapons. Officially to broaden his horizons, unofficially to convince Peter that he should let Tony make a suit for Spider-Man. 

Peter hummed thoughtfully at Tony’s words, carefully prying the gauntlet open with a screwdriver under Tony’s watchful eye. “What’s that?”

“That Spider-Man’s been spending an awful lot of time with a crazy person lately.”

“Aw, Tony,” Peter answered, “you’re not _that_ bad.”

That earned him a glare. “Did I deserve that?” Tony asked haughtily. “I don’t feel like I deserved that.” 

Peter chuckled, managing to open the gauntlet and starting to check the wires.

“I’m serious, though, kid,” Tony said. “What’s going on between you and that Wilson guy?”

That was a complicated and loaded question. Peter definitely didn’t want to give Tony the full answer. “Nothing much. We’re just patrol buddies.” And maybe a little more in the touch and romance-starved part of Peter’s mind that he only indulged in when he was alone.

“Patrol buddies,” Tony echoed. “Who flirt.”

Peter paused and straightened to look at him. “Who told you that?”

“People.” 

“People?” 

“People.” 

Peter frowned. “What people?”

“People who talk to you two, who see the two of you out and about.”

Peter set the screwdriver down with more force than necessary. “Did _DD_ tell you that?”

“You call him ‘DD’?” Tony grimaced. “And you’re still alive?” 

“ _Did_ he?” Peter asked, not to be deterred. He knew the answer already, though. Nobody ever witnessed him and Wade together. Nobody but Daredevil, with whom they sometimes partnered up with when their patrol led them to Hell’s Kitchen.

Looking a little caught now, Tony answered, “He’s a little concerned-”

“Concerned?”

“That you might be getting a little too close to Deadpool.”

It wasn’t news to Peter that Daredevil thought so. He’d pretty much told Peter exactly that a couple of times already. “So he came to _you_?”

“I’m your voice of reason,” Tony answered. “Everybody knows that.”

Squinting his eyes at him, Peter answered, “You literally tried to buy me an _apartment_ across the street last week because I complained about the subway.”

“See? Voice of reason.”

Peter rolled his eyes and turned back to the gauntlet. He definitely didn’t want to look at Tony while discussing Wade. Things between them were … complicated. They were friends, true. But to Peter, it was a little more than that. To Wade, it quite certainly wasn’t. Yes, he flirted with Peter, but Wade flirted with _poodles_ , so it didn’t mean anything. And Peter couldn’t let himself believe that it did. That was dangerous territory.

“So, do you?” Tony asked.

“Do I what?”

Tony winced, shifting nervously. “You know … flirt … with Wilson.”

“Are you worried about my virtue?” Peter asked because it was always good to deflect with humor. “’Cause you don’t have to be, it’s long gone.”

Tony made a noise that sounded like a mixture of a cough and a gag. “TMI, Parker.”

“You asked.” Peter glanced at him out of the corner of his eye.

“Not about your … virtue.” He shuddered. “Listen, kid, I think the guy is bad news and you should stay away from him.”

“He’s not _that_ bad,” Peter answered.

“He’s a _killer_.”

“He stopped that.” Peter straightened to look at Tony properly. “He’s really trying, Tony.”

Tony stared at him for a long moment, then closed his eyes with a resigned sigh. “Dear God, it’s true,” he muttered. 

“What?” Peter asked.

“You’re _dating_ him.”

Peter wanted to huff a laugh and _deny, deny, deny_ because it wasn’t true. But his touch and romance-starved self reared its ugly head, getting to his voice chords first. “And if I was?”

It was supposed to be a joke. And Tony took it completely seriously. “Then you should bring him to my New Year’s Eve party so I can give him the shovel talk.”

Peter could have told him then but somehow, he had the feeling that Wade – who _never_ got invited to Avengers shindigs and _always_ wanted to be – would like this. Maybe they could just pretend for one night. To give Wade the chance to join and to give Peter the chance to find all the reasons why things between them wouldn’t work out. “Yeah. Why not?”

If he was lucky, Wade would laugh at the very idea and refuse to go.

***

Of course he didn’t. 

“I’m going to be the best pretend-boyfriend you ever had, baby boy,” Wade said when they took a break during patrol the next night, perched on the edge of a roof overlooking Times Square, their masks abandoned next to them and a bag of hot dogs between them.

Peter frowned at him. “Okay, I didn’t have _a lot_ of boyfriends, but they were all real, thank you very much. Why would you think they weren’t?”

Wade shrugged, his face showing a grin that was pulled slightly lopsided by his scarred skin. He busied himself with unwrapping a hot dog while answering, “It’s my preferred headcanon.” He looked up, meeting Peter’s eyes. “So, I will pick you up, right? How fancy is this party?”

“You can come by at seven. And it’s not going to be overly fancy,” Peter answered. “But you won’t get away with wearing your mask, I think.” A small part of him was hoping that this would cause Wade to reconsider. Despite his bravado, Peter knew that he was more than a little self-conscious about his skin.

But Wade just nodded. 

***

To Peter’s surprise, Wade wore a dark-blue button-down shirt under a thick leather jacket and black jeans. He looked … actually presentable, which made for a change. He also looked very attractive. Peter’s heart skipped a beat when he saw Wade waiting for him outside his apartment building. Peter almost felt a little bad for not having put more effort into his outfit, having resorted to a green sweater that looked relatively new and dark slacks. His coat didn’t do much to protect him from the cold, but he had wrapped a scarf around his neck that May had made for him, so he felt warm enough. Wade had organized a taxi for them and held the door open so Peter could climb in. The whole thing was a bit ridiculous. 

And it did the opposite of what Peter had hoped to achieve tonight. 

During their ride to the Tower, Wade kept up mindless chatter all the way and exchanged stories with the driver. He stayed close by Peter’s side as they entered the lobby and let him step into the elevator first. The ride up to the penthouse was silent for the most part, until Wade cleared his throat and turned to him. “You look stunning tonight, Peter.” 

Peter felt his cheeks heat and he cleared his throat. “Uh … thanks. You too.”

Wade reached out and took one of his hands, pulling him closer. “This is gonna be fun,” he said. 

Peter ducked his head and shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.” He glanced up at Wade, smiling, and Wade almost appeared as if he was in pain for a moment, his lips pulling down into a frown and his eyes becoming sad … then the doors opened and the cabin was flooded with the sound of music and voices, shattering whatever had been brewing. Wade looked towards the party and pulled Peter along. “I think you mentioned a buffet. Let’s check that out.”

***

Peter tried to keep the ruse up, if only to unnerve Tony, who didn’t approach them but looked on from a distance. He leaned into Wade when he put an arm around his shoulders, looked up at him when he was talking, entwined their fingers while they waited in line at the buffet. It was worth Tony’s scandalized face at first. 

Then it became painful, chipping away at him ever so slowly. Because the touch and romance-starved part of Peter’s brain couldn’t shut up about how _“this was how it could always be”_ and _“this was how Wade would always look at him”_ and _“this was how it felt to be close to someone like that again”_. And Peter liked Wade. He liked him a lot. A little more than a lot. And it hurt that it was just a game to Wade, even though Peter had started it. 

And that was just the worst about this whole situation, wasn’t it? Peter had instigated it. 

He stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror and closed his eyes. Stupid. He had to put an end to this. Right now. As he opened the door and stepped outside, he ran straight into someone. “Sorry,” he muttered. 

“Oh, hey, kid.”

He stopped and looked at Tony, pasting on a smile. “Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” Tony answered, frowning. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

Tony looked skeptical, but seemed to shrug it off. “So, I saw that you brought your boyfriend.” 

Peter winced, swallowing the knot in his throat. “Yeah, about that-”

“I think I owe you an apology,” Tony said. 

It stopped Peter in his tracks. “What?” 

“I can be an asshole sometimes,” Tony said. “I feel like I made you think I don’t … _approve_ or whatever.”

Peter frowned. “ _Do_ you?”

“No,” Tony answered. “But … you know, you’re with him. And you like him. And he likes you. So … I’d be willing to give him a chance.”

Peter stared at him. “What?” 

“I’d be willing to try and give him a chance,” Tony answered. “For you.”

Peter swallowed. “Right.” That only made it worse. Tony was supposed to be livid, he was supposed to care and cause a scene, and Peter was supposed to tell him it was all a joke and they’d laugh and … “That’s great.”

Tony put a hand on his shoulder and smiled, then walked into the bathroom and closed the door. 

Peter headed for the balcony.

***

Which brought him here: shivering alone in the cold while New York happily prepared for the new year. 

“Pretty cold out here,” Wade said behind him and Peter ducked his head. He’d heard him approach, of course, but he wasn’t quite ready for company. “And you didn’t bring your coat,” Wade added.

“Yeah,” Peter muttered. “I’m an idiot.” Something warm and heavy fell on his shoulders and he looked down to see Wade’s leather jacket. He turned around to him, pulling his arms into the sleeves sheepishly. “Thank you.” 

“Anytime.” Wade looked at him. “You seem sad, baby boy.”

Peter shrugged.

Wade frowned, his eyes gaining that hard glint that usually only appeared when Peter got hurt on patrol. “I saw you with Stark. Did he say something?”

Sighing deeply, Peter answered, “Yeah, he did.”

“About how much he disapproves and how you should try to get out of this relationship as soon as possible? I mean he’ll be happy to hear we broke up.” He perked up, a smile catching on his lips. “ _Or_ we can keep the rouse going for a little while longer. Just until I’ve tried all the scotches in his liquor cabinet.”

Peter snorted a laugh. “Actually,” he said, sobering a little, “he told me that he approves.”

Wade stared at him. “He _did_?”

“Yeah.” 

“ _Huh._ ”

“Yeah, something about us looking happy,” Peter said. “In love.” He looked at Wade carefully, who had his head turned to the side, staring into the crowded room behind the windows. 

There was an even deeper frown on Wade’s face now. He was silent for a long time and Peter was just about to suggest they leave through the emergency exit when Wade softly, almost absent-mindedly, said, “It's not hard to make people believe I'm in love with you.” There was something terrifyingly serious about his words, almost as if they meant something more … Peter reminded himself silently not to stare, to look away before Wade looked back at him. Making eye contact felt like the hammer that would break the fragile surface of whatever was building between them. 

Or maybe it was just Peter imagining the things he _wanted_ to see, to live and experience; a world where Wade Wilson could love him. “And why is that?” He kept his voice quiet, a shade of terror clinging to his words in spite of his best efforts to sound normal and collected, not afraid. 

Wade simply sighed and Peter felt the weight of his stare on the side of his face; felt too much, felt a little sick, and that sensation grew with every second of silence until … “Don't think too hard about it, Peter. We should …,” he heard Wade swallow and felt himself doing the same. 

Was that something people did when they were in love? Adjust their body language to the person they wanted? 

He felt like he was walking on eggshells. No, of course not. He wasn't in love. He _couldn't_ be. It was just a combination of a stupid crush and loneliness that was haunting him. 

Wade met his eyes. “We should go back inside.”

So why did it feel like Peter was shattering inside when he whispered a tired, “Okay,” and Wade took his hand in his? 

Why did he feel so cold inside?

***

“… three, two, one, happy new year!” the people around them shouted out cheerfully, couples turning towards each other to kiss and friends hugging as the first fireworks started to light up the sky. 

Wade and Peter stood back in one of the darker corners, where nobody paid any attention to them. Peter turned to Wade, looking up at him, and Wade smiled, taking Peter’s hand again. Maybe it was the two glasses of champagne he’d had since their talk on the balcony but for just a moment, Peter decided he would let go of his reservations. He would stop worrying and just do what felt right … so he leaned in, closer to Wade, going up on his toes … just to have Wade stop him with a palm against his chest. His eyes were dark and earnest as they met Peter’s, his fingers squeezing Peter’s hand. 

“I don’t want to pretend that part,” he said. 

Peter nodded, ducking his head. “Sorry.”

Wade slid his arm around Peter’s shoulder and pulled him in, releasing a breath. “That’s okay.”

***

The taxi left them at Peter’s door around two in the morning. Peter felt exhausted, but found it in him to gift Wade with a smile. “Thanks for bringing me home.”

“I’m a gentleman,” Wade said, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “And these streets are dangerous.” 

Peter chuckled, a little bit of his sadness receding. “So I’ve heard.” He sighed. “I had fun tonight.”

“No, you didn’t,” Wade answered.

“No, I didn’t,” Peter admitted. “But that’s not your fault.” He smiled sadly. 

Wade hummed. Then he leaned in and kissed Peter’s cheek. When he retreated, he only went far enough that their noses still touched with every breath they took. Peter looked at Wade while he leaned in again, keeping his eyes open as Wade’s lips met his. 

A couple of houses down the street, a window was opened and laughter rang out, accompanied by the sound of bad karaoke. 

Wade drew back a little, his eyes firmly on Peter’s, and rested his hands on Peter’s hips to push him back gently against the door. When he closed in again, Peter tipped his head back, knocking it against the door. “I thought you didn’t want to pretend.”

“I don’t,” Wade answered. “I’m not.” He tilted his head slightly. “Are you?”

Peter stared at him. Then he shook his head. He met Wade half-way for their next kiss, going up on his tippy toes to press closer. 

“It’s not hard to make people believe I’m in love with you,” Wade said, an echo of his words at the party. “’Cause it’s not make-believe.” 

Peter felt his heart skip a beat, his cheeks flushing. 

“And just for the record,” Wade added, his arms coming around Peter’s waist to pull him in closer, “I don’t go through a shovel talk that terrifying just for pretend.”

Peter huffed a laugh. “Oh no,” he said. “Was it awful?”

“He’s a tiny, vengeful man,” Wade said and looked down at him, his hand cupping Peter’s cheek. “It was worth it, though,” he murmured and leaned down again.

END  
March 2020

**Author's Note:**

> Original prompt by Ice Katana:  
>  _“It's not hard to make people believe I'm in love with you.”  
>  Peter reminded himself silently not to stare, to look away before Wade looked back at him. Making eye contact felt like the hammer that would break the fragile surface of whatever was building between them. Or maybe it was just Peter imagining the things he wanted to see-- to live and experience. A world where Wade Wilson could love him.  
> “And why is that?” He kept his voice quiet, a shade of terror tinging his words in spite of his best efforts to sound normal and collected. Not afraid.  
> Wade simply sighed and Peter felt the weight of his stare on the side of his face; felt too much, felt a little sick and that sensation grew with every second of silence until—  
> “Don't think too hard about it, Peter.... We should,” he heard Wade swallow and felt himself doing the same. Was that something people did when they were in love? Adjust their body language to the person they wanted? He felt like he was walking on eggshells. No, of course not. He wasn't in love. He couldn't be. “We should get back inside.”  
> So why did it feel like Peter was shattering inside when he whispered a tired, “Okay,” and Wade took his hand in his?  
> Why did he feel so cold?_


End file.
